We knew it was going to be good fun, and it was! When Jay and Orla decided to come out for a week, their last holiday before their marriage this summer, Liz and I knew we were in for a laugh. Jason isn’t Irish but he lives there with Orla and when they came to visit they brought a bit of Ireland with them – the bit about drinking heavily and frequently!
A good lesson learned recently is that of ensuring your guests are getting what they want out of their holiday, so the first day was spent shopping for clothes to keep Orla happy! Here’s a girl who clearly has her priorities mixed up – shopping over sailing? How very dare you! Still, it meant everyone was stocked up on jelly shoes and with the sight-seeing done in a whirlwind and ticked off the list it meant we could concentrate on planning our passage for the next week.
The winds had been doing some very strange things recently, something that the locals frequently commenting on, but the forecast for this week was rubbish followed by more rubbish. No wind. At all. We decided to avoid doing the usual Bitez/Gumusluk run and instead take Jay and Orla to Knidos. In fact this was Liz’s first visit too so it was a good plan and, more surprisingly, when we left the marina the winds had picked up, taking us most of the way under sail.
If you are familiar with the log you’ll know that I have already been to and written about Knidos before so I won’t go into it again, but it never, ever fails to impress. Liz’s father and brother are both involved in archaeology so she was able to impart some knowledge as we stomped round the site in the searing heat. Even Jay managed to identify the remains of a bridge that had once connected the two parts of the city.
After Jay and I hacked up the hill to watch the sun set (the girls made a B-line for the wine) the evening was spent in the only restaurant on the site, government owned but run by a mentalist Turk called Hobpu (pron Hob-pah). We bumped into him again three weeks later and the rude git just climbed aboard without asking permission. Not impressed.
The next morning, stocked up on fags and fresh bread, we started the long journey to Amazon Creek, some 36nm miles away. Long because there was zero wind so it meant motoring the entire leg. I hate motoring, I really hate it.